


you hate me for the runaround

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Community: smut_tuesdays, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-13
Updated: 2008-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:11:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know what I'm talking about."</p>
            </blockquote>





	you hate me for the runaround

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: post-2.20 "Lay Down Your Burdens"  
> A/N: I was brand new to BSG! Happy [**smut_tuesdays**](http://community.livejournal.com/smut_tuesdays/)! I wanted to figure out why Lee was pissed at Kara and so was Dualla. This is what I came up with. Lee Adama has more emotions than anyone else I know. Thanks to [**ninamazing**](http://ninamazing.livejournal.com/) and [**queenzulu**](http://queenzulu.livejournal.com/) for a beta and to my roommate [**coffeesuperhero**](http://coffeesuperhero.livejournal.com/), who read over my shoulder and said, "Is it done yet? How about now?" Title is from Sara Bareilles' "Love On The Rocks".  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

"Kara, wait."

She spun on her heel, her hair flying around her face, and bounced over to Lee. He hadn't seen her this happy in a long time. Not since she'd showed up battered, disgusting, and victorious in the Cylon Raider, high on adrenaline and lack of oxygen. He swallowed hard.

"Yes, Com_man_der?" she drawled.

"I just...I just wanted to say. Galactica will miss you." He dipped his head and his new wings poked him in the neck. She always made him feel like he was back in high school, uncertain. Stupid. Clumsy. He was a commander now, for gods' sake. He should pull himself together. "It's a loss to the crew."

She punched him in the shoulder. "What are you trying to say, Lee? Pegasus won't miss me?"

"You're joking, right?" he teased her, his insides twisting up. He guessed he'd call it trepidation; it felt like nausea. "You're an official pain in the ass. The crew of my ship has been briefed not to let your sorry self across the deck when you get tired of dirtside life. There's a party later in the mess. We're stenciling somebody else's name on your bird."

She pouted at him and narrowed her eyes. "Might as well. I'll be breathing real air and getting around on my own two feet. Pegasus was never home anyway. I don't need them to miss me."

It was as good an opening as he'd get from her. "Pegasus actual will miss you," he said. "It's more than a professional loss to the fleet to see you leave."

"Don't get all sappy on me now, Lee," she said in a low voice. She stepped closer, searching his face. He opened his mouth and she turned away, the smell of detergent floating up to him from the open neck of her sweatshirt.

"Kara," he said. His voice scraped in his throat like a teenager's. He swallowed hard and tried to start again, but she grabbed his elbow and steered him into a half-empty storage room. He stumbled as she released him, banging his ankle on the edge of a bin, and swore quietly. She backed him up until he sat down on the bin and then put her hands on her hips, staring down at him.

"What's this about, Lee?"

He buried his face in his hands. "Nothing. I shouldn't have said anything. Just go."

She crossed her arms. "You're acting like an idiot."

"Maybe I am one."

"Oh, pull yourself together, Apollo," she said, her chin dropping to one side in disgust. "You'll miss me. It's okay to miss me. I'll miss you too. Look, we fly together. You'll always get me. That matters, I get it. It doesn't have to be all high drama." She waggled her fingers in the air. "I'm not dying. I'm just moving. You can call me and we'll talk about old times. You know, when I'm not busy rebuilding civilization. You better not call collect, either."

"We don't even have old times," he said, bitterness seeping into his voice. "I frakked that up too."

She shoved him over with her hip and plopped down next to him. "Look, Lee. We both made a lot of mistakes. I made probably more than anyone, ever. You're lucky I won't be under you anymore."

Lee tried to laugh but it sounded like a cough with aspirations. "I'd just put you in hack the minute you stepped aboard and save the trouble."

"Exactly." She patted his knee and left her hand there. "Whatever chances we had for...whatever, we can't change the choices we made. You didn't abandon me. It all worked out. You're the commander now. Get it off your conscience. I forgive you. You got frakkin' spaced. It's not your fault."

He almost slammed his skull against the bulkhead turning to look at her. "You think I was talking about the mission? With Cain?"

"I don't know what old times you don't think we had," she said, her face hazy with remembering. "There was that time you lost me in the Blackbird, and oh, that time I smoked your ass at target practice, and about a hundred different times I drank you under the table. Oh, and that time you and Zak and I took that boat out and nearly turned it over. And remember when we were on Kobol and you stepped in that mud puddle almost up to your knee? It's a good thing you're not going dirtside. You wouldn't last a week without steel and concrete under your feet. We had plenty of times. You're just a forgetful bastard."

"Kara, I'm not talking about any of those times." He picked up her hand between his. She couldn't really be missing his meaning. She was sharp, Starbuck was, and quicker on the draw than anyone he knew.

"What are you talking about, Lee?" she asked quietly, with a kind of finality like she didn't want to hear the answer. Her eyes were wary.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I'm asking," she said in a careful way that he'd hardly ever heard from her, "because there are two people out there who expect us to come home."

"Don't go," he said, and reached up to touch her face.

"I'm going," she said. She turned her face away from his eyes, but her cheek fitted into the cup of his palm, and it didn't seem as if she really minded. "I'm going home. I'm going to make a home."

"I love you," he said. He held his breath.

"See there," she said, biting down on her lip, "you didn't even try to hide it in the middle that time. Losing your touch."

"Frak me, Kara, this is serious," he said in agony, his stomach knotting up until he wanted to double over.

"May take you up on that," she said and she kissed him. For a moment, he thought of Dee, imagining her looking for him, finding them, the heartbreak in her brown eyes, but gods, it was Kara and it had been Kara for so long. Kara in the body language of the blonde girl on Caprica. Kara lithe and alive in her bikini on that boat standing in the circle of his brother's arms. Kara grease-smeared and wild fighting him through a hundred missions. Kara sharing bread with him under a tarp in the everlasting rain on Kobol. Her mouth was home, and her arms around him, and he didn't need to go anywhere.

She broke the kiss and he let her, resting his forehead against hers, breathing a little heavily. "Gods damn it," she said fiercely and kissed him again, and this time it wasn't a comfort, it was a conflagration. Kissing her was like flying the wrong side of a mission: he couldn't breathe, he had vertigo so badly that his grip on her hips was the only thing keeping him grounded, and adrenaline made his ears ring. She was kneeling on his leg and her shin bone pinched his thigh, but that felt like someone else's body. All of his nerve endings were in his lips touching her lips, and in his fingers where he'd pushed up her shirt to touch her skin. Her elbows pushed at his forearms as she undid the buttons of his jacket and pushed his undershirt up roughly. Her nails scraped over his stomach and he shivered, feeling his thighs pucker with goosebumps and his cock stiffen. Her breath was hot on his neck and his earlobe, and he jumped when she nipped at the tender skin under his ear.

"Stay with me," he said, one hand flattened between her shoulderblades, the fingers of the other pressed into the dimples of her lower back.

"You talk too much," she said, and crushed her mouth against his. Her hands pushed and pulled at him until he was straddling the box with her kneeling between his thighs. "And you're wearing too much."

He rolled his arms and she pushed his jacket off and kissed his bare shoulder. He closed his eyes, his breath hitching, his cock hard and aching.

"Uh uh," she said, " you have to look at me." He opened his eyes and her mouth flickered into a quick smile. For a moment she just balanced there between his legs, studying him like she was targeting his weakness, and then she grinned and reached for the hem of her shirt, skinning it over her head. She tossed it onto a shelf, looking pleased with herself. Her hair was skewed around her head and he reached up and smoothed it down, touching her face. He traced her cheekbones and her lips, and she turned her mouth into his palm for a quick kiss.

"You're a sap, Lee Adama."

"Maybe I just like what I see," he said.

"Good," she said, and pulled his shirt up until he had to lift his arms to let her jerk it over his head. She tugged until the fabric was over his face and then dipped her head and kissed his throat, using the edges of her teeth until he jerked away.

"You're fiesty, Kara Thrace." His voice was muffled by the shirt; he grabbed it off himself and threw it on the floor.

"You knew that already," she grinned. "That's enough talking." She clasped his wrists and held them down as she kissed him, and he surrendered to her, arching his back to meet her mouth. His head was crammed against the bulkhead by the force of her passion; he twisted until both of them slid off the box and down the bulkhead onto the floor. For a moment he had her under him, but she grinned and narrowed her eyes and flipped him, tackling him so that they both grunted. The cold steel pressed patterns into his back. She pinned his wrists above his head, warning him with a look to keep them there, and kissed her way down his front. He shifted under her as she moved, enjoying her weight over his hips, and she knew all the sensitive places along his ribs and belly. The hot marks of her mouth cooled quickly in the chill of the storage room and gave him goosebumps all over again. She had slid back until her knees bracketed his. Her grin as she paused and looked up at him over the plane of his belly was wild, more than a little maniacal, and so classically Starbuck that his heart twitched the same way his cock did, in anticipation of her touch.

"No takebacks," she said.

"Gods no," he gasped.

"Good," she said, and undid the buttons on his trousers so slowly and carefully that he thought he might suffocate before she was done. All the blood had left his head; his body yearned toward her, and he couldn't help his hips jumping when she finally eased his trousers down his thighs, nuzzling at the inside of his knee as she worked her way down his legs. He thought briefly that if anyone walked in, he'd look like a fool, nearly naked on the floor under her, his erection painfully obvious. At least she was taking off his shoes and socks so he didn't look like a complete frakking idiot. She crawled back up to his hips and pressed her lips to the hem of his boxer-briefs, running one finger along the seams in the crease of his leg. He hissed through his teeth and tried to hold still. Her fingers hooked under the fabric and peeled it back, freeing his cock. She lapped the head briefly and he groaned.

"You're killing me," he said, craning his head to look at her.

"I _will_ kill you if you keep talking."

"Aye, sir." He heaved himself up and dragged her down on top of him; she laughed and dug her knees into his ribs and leaned down to kiss him. Her hair fell in both their faces, prickling on his eyelids. He hooked his thumbs under the elastic of her bra and lifted it over her breasts, cupping one in each hand. Her skin was electric. She had goosebumps too and they felt like sparks under his fingertips. He tried to smooth them away, enjoying the feel of her muscles moving as she shifted over him. Her tongue was in his mouth, insistent, and he pushed his shoulders into the floor trying to get leverage against her mouth, pressing deeper. Her lips were so soft and resilient compared to the steel frame of the rest of her. She broke the kiss suddenly and stood up in one fluid motion, stripping her bra off. His head snapped up and then back, nearly cracking against the floor. She toed off her shoes and socks as she undid her trousers and shimmied out of them, dropping them on his head. He picked them off his face and pushed them in a wad under his head, inadequate cushion but better than nothing.

She was gorgeous, naked; she took all the air out of the room. He opened his mouth, but she smiled and put her finger to her lips, sinking into a crouch and then crawling slowly over him, dropping kisses across his body as she advanced. His head tipped back. He was panting with his need for her. He reached up and ran his hands down her back, and she made a contented noise and shifted across his hips. Her hand curled around his cock as her mouth descended on his, and then she sank down and he was all taken up in her, the wet heat of her mouth and her cunt. She shifted, adjusting around him, pulling him in deeper, and he held his breath until he saw stars. She grinned the way he'd seen her do when she was climbing into her Viper, and he pushed his feet against the bins, but there was no bracing against her. Just as he thought she'd gotten settled, notching their bones together, she bit down on his shoulder and _squeezed_ him at the same time, and he almost swore but couldn't form the word. His brain trickled down his spine and pooled at the base of his cock.

Fucking her was like flying the Blackbird: she rolled when he didn't expect it, fast and lithe and unpredictable and perfect, strong and sleek. He had no illusions about being in control - she moved slowly when she wanted to, the pressure of her hips so exquisite that he almost bit through his lip, and then he'd feel her smile against his mouth and she'd lean back and ride him hard so that her hair flew and her breasts bounced as he tried to hold them. He had lost all sense of time. It felt as if he had been pinned between her hot solid body and the deck forever, pinned in her, and he never wanted to be released. He touched her everywhere he could reach, trying to discover every texture of her body. She leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth, her nose nudging along his cheekbone. He wasn't sure if she was laughing or breathing heavily. Her full lips skated over his and he caught her head between his hands and held her there, kissing her, his mouth full of unsaid words. She sucked briefly at his tongue, her teeth clicking against his, and ground down on him until he gritted his teeth, trying to hold out against her.

Sparks flashed in front of his eyes like the glitter of flak. Her skin was slick against his, her cleavage dewed with sweat. She propped herself up, bracing her hands against the deck, and rocked her hips. Her thighs trembled against his. Her mouth was open and her eyes were closed, her head tipped back. He reached up and drew his shaking fingers down the sweet line of her throat, between her breasts, over the slight rounding of her belly as her abs tightened. She shivered, almost overbalancing, and he gripped her hip with one hand, stroking her with the other until she was almost keening. She swallowed and pursed her lips, looking down at him over her cheeks; he reached up and put his fingers in her mouth. She wrapped her tongue around each one in turn and he groaned and let his fingers slip back down her front. She bore down on him again, ramming back and forth on his cock, the friction and pressure so incredible that his grip tightened on her until he was afraid he'd bruise her. Her orgasm took him by surprise: her shoulders rounded suddenly and she leaned forward, her cunt squeezing around him, long spasms kneading his cock. She bit her lip, stifling a moan, and slowed the tempo of her movement, leaning her breasts against his chest. He nuzzled her forehead and pushed his chin down until he could kiss the corner of her eye, the side of her nose, and finally, her parted lips. He ticked his fingers along the barely protruding knobs of her spine and drew circles in the damp hollow of her lower back. He could feel his pulse in his groin; his cock twitched in impatience and his thighs tightened. She chuckled into his collarbones.

"Keep up the good work, flyboy," she said, her lips tickling the joint of his jaw, and pushed herself off his chest. A smile curled her lips as she looked down at him and reached back to press her fingertips under his balls. His hips jumped so that his heels thumped the floor and he grunted. She wrinkled her nose at him. He reached for her hands and held them together on his chest, so that she was leaning forward a little, tight around him. The angle of her arms pressed her breasts together; he wished he could reach them with his mouth.

"Your tits are amazing," he panted, and she snorted. She slid forward until he nearly slipped out of her, and lowered her chest until her nipples brushed his face.

"One," she said, pressing her breast against his lips and hissing as her nipple scraped his teeth, "or the other." She slid back until he was buried in her again, and he couldn't help groaning. She was all around him, she was the universe. He rocked up into her with a growing desperation. She urged him on with her hands, her hips. He remembered dancing with her. He remembered shucking her out of her clothes, drunk in the mess. He remembered her in the Blackbird, staring him down. Her weight on him was the weight of their history and the burden of last chances. She reached down along his inner thigh again, turning her head to look over her bare shoulder, and the line of her jaw and her throat and her collarbones undid him. He felt himself pulsing inside her as his fingers dug into her hips, pulling her down onto him. He pressed into her until his hip bones ached and his back started to cramp from arching and she held him there, held him hard and made a little choking sound and rippled around him again, gently.

"Oh, Lee," she said, and it was more of a sigh than a scream, but it was enough. She swung her leg over him, stiffly, and eased herself down beside him, her chin on his shoulder. He put his mouth against her forehead. It wasn't really a kiss; he just wanted to touch her everywhere he could. His breath stirred her damp hair in little puffs and her chest heaved against his ribs. She slung her arm over him, burying her face against his neck, and held onto him. He lay there on the awful floor, probably bruised, definitely a bastard, sore already, and happy. Liberated. The storage room smelled like metal and sex and sweat. He had never needed a shower more in his life. But Kara had her knee thrown over his thighs, and he couldn't seem to worry about any of the things he was neglecting.

He smoothed her hair out of her face with two fingers and kissed the tip of her nose. "Gods, I would have been lost if you'd gone."

She pushed herself away from him and levered herself up her elbows. "I'm not staying."

"I thought..." he began.

"You thought wrong," she said, and started to reach for her clothes.

"Don't go," he said. "The fleet needs you. I need you. Starbuck, you're the best thing we've got going for us."

"You'll have to make a new best thing," she said, dragging on her trousers. "That isn't enough. Look, it was just sex. Desperate times, desperate measures. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"It means something," he said, pulling his shirt over himself.

"Forget it, Lee," she said, her mouth twisted up like she'd bitten into something bitter. "Just forget it. Go back to your petty officer and your fancy ship and just let it go."

"I'm the wrong Adama, am I?" he said, pushing himself off the floor.

She paused. "Maybe so. Wrong man, wrong time. It doesn't really matter."

"Gods damn it, Kara, I just betrayed Dee and you're leaving?"

"Tell her it wasn't your idea," she said. "Starbuck the frak-up, right? Starbuck the slut. She'll believe you."

"Frak that!" He rolled over and scrabbled for his uniform, dragging on his undershirt and trying to button his jacket and trousers with fingers that shook. He stood up and crossed the room to her, grabbing her shoulders. "Kara, I love you. You can't tell me that doesn't mean anything. You can't tell me you don't _feel_ anything."

She stared up at him. Her lips were swollen and pink and her eyes looked huge in her flushed face. "What did you think, Lee? Love conquers all? Did you think I was suddenly going to be all hearts and lace? Did you think I'd leave Sam and stay here with you and hang curtains in your cabin and repopulate the CAP with a hundred little pilot babies? That isn't me. I thought you knew me."

"I thought I did too." He stared at the criss-cross studding on the floor, his chest heaving. "I thought I mattered to you. I guess I was wrong."

"Stop acting like a child. It doesn't matter if I love you or if I don't. There's only one chance to start over and I'm taking it." She shrugged on her jacket.

"With him?"

"Everyone else knows my dirty secrets," she said, with a crooked grin that was more of a grimace. "I want a fresh new life."

"Start over on Pegasus," he said pathetically.

"You're just going to wipe the slate clean for me with all the people I've pissed off? Gods, Lee, I feel sorry for you if you think that's how life works. It's going to be a hard fall."

"Is that what this was?" he demanded, anger rising in his belly like the swoop of a six-gee flip. "A pity frak? You feel _sorry_ for me? Is that what this was? The pity of the great Kara Thrace for the stupid, common, wrong Adama?"

Starbuck stood with her hand on the door, her face creased with anger and unhappiness. He could see her biting the inside of her lip.

"Answer me, godsdammit," he said, shooting his wrists through his cuffs.

"Sure, Lee," she said after a moment. "Whatever you want to think."

"You kissed _me_," he said in desperate fury. She hitched up one shoulder and shoved her hands in her pockets. "So that's it? You're just going to frak me and leave?"

"The first one's free," she said, and slipped out the door.

He slumped against a shelving unit and slid slowly down to the floor. When he closed his eyes, he was floating, lost in the black again, and no one was going to save him.


End file.
